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20. Fitz
24. Fitz
25. Summer
27. Fitz
29. Fitz
Jee-zus. One measly stomach pumping and poor Daphne gets Voldemorted? The Kappa Beta Nu chapter of Briar University is evidently a lot stricter than the Brown chapter.
put on the cavalier, nothing-in-life-ever-ever-gets-to-me voice that I’ve perfected over the years.
“A woman isn’t defined by her boyfriends. She’s defined by her achievements. And her shoes.”
Fitzy is short for Colin Fitzgerald, and he just happens to be THE UNICORN.
The tall, sexy, tattooed hockey-playing unicorn of a man who I might have a teeny-weeny itsy-bitsy crush on.
perception and reality are vastly disparate. The truth is usually found somewhere in between.
Dean might be a pain in the ass most of the time, but he’s a good big brother. He’s there for me when I need him, and that’s all that really matters.
Except for me, that is. I play hockey, yes. I’m good at it, definitely. But “god” and “jock” and “superstar” are terms I’ve never been comfortable with. Deep down, I’m a huge nerd. A nerd masquerading as a god.
“Sorry. I’m not very chatty. Don’t take it personally, okay?” I steal my bottle back. “Okay, I won’t. But if you don’t feel like talking, at least entertain me in other ways.” She plants her hands on her hips. “I propose we make out.”
“Oh, I get it. I was wasting my time trying to sell you on her. You were already sold.” His gray eyes light up gleefully. “You have a thing for Dean’s sister.”
Now I’m dreading it. My unicorn is no longer a unicorn. He’s a judgmental donkey.
Silence is not my friend.
I’m not a fan of my own thoughts. They tend to be a jumble of insecurity, mixed with self-doubt, a splash of inner critic, and a sprinkling of misplaced over-confidence. It’s a fucked-up place, my mind.
That wasn’t my intention, though. Those books are legitimately tough to read. Hell, I barely got through them myself, and I’ve been reading fantasy religiously for years.
He’s also the only Black player on the team, which he’s damn proud of. He’s entering the draft this year and eager to make his mark in a pro league that’s predominantly white.
That’s what Logan is doing right now, playing for the Providence Bruins and developing his skills. Not everyone is like Garrett Graham, a born superstar.
I binge-watched last year, where the main character time-jumps into random people’s bodies in
order to change history.
Quantum Leap
love of little baby Jesus,
!!!!!
“He implied I was too stupid to read Shifting Winds.”
“I’m watching you, Greenwich Barbie.”
Do all Briar hockey fans think Harvard is Dante’s Inferno,
He🏒🏒
I try to remind myself that I’m all about girl power. We live in a society where too many women tear each other down instead of raising each other up.
We need to empower one another, teach future generations of girls that it’s important to stand together.
I don’t believe men are evil demons from hell and should be purged from society—I think men have lots of good things to offer the world. Their dicks are fabulous, for one.
Granted, we didn’t do anything but spoon, but it felt nice lying there with a warm male body pressed up against me.
MH
????? Mike
WTF WERE YOU THINKING
thats right
I’m not attracted to guys who think I’m fluff.” “Mmm-hmmm. So you’re saying if he called you up right now and said, Hey Summer, I’d like to take you on a date and possibly show you my penis at the end of it? You’re telling me you’d say no?” “One hundred percent.” “Bullshit.”
I lounge on the couch next to a very hairless Mike Hollis.
shave for a girl to go down on him
He’s sporting what I like to call Exploding Ovaries attire—gray sweatpants that ride oh-so-low on his trim hips, and a tight white T-shirt that shows off his tattooed arms. This fucking guy. He’s a total ten.
respectively)
get married and have babies, but then his ex-girlfriend decided she
Fitz gave me THE KISS.
It lasted less than a minute,
occurred in front of a dozen people during a juvenile game of Spin the Bottle, and yet? It has consumed my mind from the second I went to bed last night to the moment I opened my eyes this morning. I undo...
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But every time I’m around him, my creep-o-meter goes haywire.
Every time I start to think he’s harmless, he triggers that dreaded creep-o-meter.
When she laughs, she does it with her entire body and soul.
We both whirl around at the sound of Hunter’s
I make a face. “Oh God, I hope not.”
I want a man with clear intentions. A man who makes an effort and is excited to spend time with me. A man who actually wants to want me.
I have the utmost confidence that Brenna can be trusted and won’t try to make me feel bad about my actions in some catty, passive-aggressive way.
I feel like too many girls fail to remember one vital truth: we deserve someone who gives us one hundred percent. Half-assed effort isn’t effort. Half- assed love isn’t love. If a man isn’t all in, then we need to be all out.
He turns the shower off and steps toward the little door. My heart rate triples. Water drips down his bare chest, rippling over his tattoo and trickling between his defined pecs. One muscular arm reaches out, and I forget how to breathe. Is he—
